The Only Exception
by the general girl
Summary: When you are standing on the edge, at the end, I will still be here. — SasuSaku, drabble collection.
1. slow and steady wins the race

**title:** slow and steady wins the race  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>promptpairing:** sasusaku/don't remember, the beginning of this is actually over a year old.

* * *

><p>When they begin, they take it slow.<p>

Because it's Sasuke and Sakura and there are too many expectations, too many stereotypes, too many years, too many heartbreaks. It's neither's fault, but the damage is done. All they can do is cope.

But Sakura is a patient girl, a patient woman, and she doesn't measure their love, their beginnings and endings in the big things. She isn't looking for a happily ever after, complete with a ring and three children and _MrandMrsUchiha _ad nauseum, instead it's all the nights where he waits for her after the late shift at the hospital, the times when he allows her to hold him after a particularly bad storm, where he literally melds himself into her arms and his guard is finally, _finally_ down.

Sakura takes these moments-the spring mornings that they spend walking in the park, the barely there kisses that he sometimes presses to her forehead-and stores them, carefully and tenderly, in her chest. They are what she curls up with when he has another one of his spells, when he's quiet and taciturn, when, even though they could be sitting side by side, he might as well not be there at all.

When Sasuke is gone to another place,-of family and blood, duty and sacrifices- one that she can never reach, she will pull these memories out, and they are like old friends that comfort her when she is alone. They keep her sane on the _really _bad days, when he is especially cutting, letting loose caustic remarks, little quips and put downs that reduce her to twelve all over again, clueless and heartbroken, lying on a cold stone bench.

Those days though, grow fewer and more far between, and Sasuke always, _always _apologizes afterward, (no, almost never in words but in the small bunch of handpicked wildflowers on her desk the next day or in her favorite food waiting for her at breakfast the next morning, the kisses he presses in public like so many _I'm sorry_'s to her nape) so to Sakura, it is alright, and she calls it Progress.

And then one day they aren't beginning anymore, they're _in the thick of it_, grooves worn so deep into each others lives-grooves that only each other could fill-that she doesn't know what she'd do without him anymore; he's become a part of the unfaltering rhythm of her day. She hates coming home to an empty house when he's away on missions, and even though he says nothing, she knows he hates sleeping alone-she kept the nightmares at bay, he'd let slip once in the aftermath of their sweat slicked bodies.

She doesn't need to pull those old memories of theirs out for comfort anymore because they're making so many new pieces of themselves (not just Sasuke or Sakura but _them_-us, she mouths, over and over again, _us_) every day, so many in fact that she stops framing the moments when he kisses her of his own accord because he does it every day now, every morning, it's a part of their ritual, and she's also stopped numbering all the times he takes her hand in public because she'd have lost count-he doesn't do it all the time no, Sasuke will never be as touchy feely as that but he does do it enough (when she looks particularly tired after a mission or a hospital shift or when they're on a real, normal _date_) to make it _normal_, if never routine.

And when he finally proposes, even though it's been four years since they've been in an official relationship, three since they've been living together and two and a half since they've been _sleeping_ together, they begin again, and this time there is no lingering darkness and nightmares don't chase Sasuke in his sleep. This time there is only light and laughter and the soft, silken sweep of her wedding kimono glinting in the sunshine.

This time there are no bad memories holding either one of them down, and when Sasuke pulls her into his arms after the ceremony and kisses her in front of all their assembled friends, he whispers the future into her ears, and Sakura smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **No, I'm not dead! But the only reason I'm writing fagain is because of **SasuSaku Month**, a monthlong event on LJ that I'm cohosting that's dedicated to reviving our favorite ship with a month full of prompts and fun fun fun (cue the cheesy music)! Definitely check the event out! Anyways, this is the start of a new drabble collection full of sasusaku/Team 7 goodness. Feel free to give me prompts and requests in a review (or PM, if you're so inclined)! My writing's a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoyed anyways. And for those of you who actually remember/care, the next chapter in **Revolution**'s actually half written, so no, I haven't abandoned that either.

Thanks for reading, and remember that feedback's always appreciated!


	2. countdown

**title:** countdown  
><strong>rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku/No prompt, once again written a year ago!  
><strong>note: <strong>In Sasuke's POV.

* * *

><p>You're holding out your hand to me and I don't know what to do. Should I accept? Am I ready? Are you ready? I don't know if you have any idea what you're getting with me. I'm not the boy that you fell in love with all those years ago anymore. You look at me with this incredulous expression on your face and two words, only two words.<p>

"I know."

I'm forced to concede, because I'm tired of fighting and you know it. But I can't take your hand, not yet. You might be ready to accept me, but I'm not. I wonder if I'll ever be. Your eyes don't look hurt though, instead there is understanding and, greatest of all-empathy. That is vastly different than the pity that I've received from so many others. I ask you why and you just shrug a little.

"You hate uselessness."

I look at you again, walking side by side with a foot of space between us, with no desire to close the gap. You will wait for me, you say, you will wait until I'm ready and along the way you'll try as hard as possible to help me.

That is all I ever needed to hear from you.

You smile.

I look to the sky and start counting the days.

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><p><strong>an:** An actual (very old) drabble! 8D And again, join sasusaku month guys, join join join! You can contact us via our account too (username SasuSaku Month, derp).


	3. impulse

**title: **impulse  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku/broken nose for Paige. :)

* * *

><p>"So teme, I see you sparred with Sakura-chan today."<p>

Sasuke glared at the grinning blond, either unwilling to admit that the pink haired kunoichi had bested him (_when did she get so freaking _strong?) or unable to on account of the blood flowing through his fingers from his newly crooked nose.

Unable to resist ribbing his best friend some more, Naruto tapped one finger contemplatively against his chin, "Then again she heals the rest of us, I wonder why she didn't fix your ugly mug, eh? Sakura-chan's scary but she isn't _mean_."

"It's because he deserved it."

Naruto froze at the sound of the sickly sweet voice coming from behind him, and Sasuke would've smirked at the expression of horror on his face if not for the extraordinary will power he needed in order to keep a pain free facade (getting his face punched in by Sakura had _hurt_). Then her words registered and his head whipped up to try and glare convincingly at the pinkette who'd breezed in past a nervously chuckling Naruto to stand over his prone form. Sasuke debated on standing up from his seated position on the bed but thought better of it.

"Ahaha Sakura-chan, I'm sure the bastard did! Your call's always right! And, uh, you're very, very...pretty...?"

Sakura rolled her eyes, "It's _ok_ Naruto, I'll just pretend I never heard that if you promise you won't have any more ramen for the rest of the week."

The blond almost made to protest, but then decided wisely it was better to just keep Sakura appeased and beat a hasty retreat, grimacing apologetically at Sasuke from behind her back before teleporting away.

Sakura sighed when Sasuke refused to look at her, muttering something about _pride _and _men_ underneath her breath before kneeling in front of the Uchiha, "I need to stop the bleeding."

Sasuke didn't answer, but let her questing fingers turn his face towards hers anyways. The feeling of her chakra enveloped fingers was pleasant on his skin and he couldn't help but lean slightly into her touch. Sakura didn't miss the gesture and hummed appreciatively, hands moving soft and gentle to trace the crooked bridge of his nose.

"This must hurt," her voice was apologetic but she couldn't help but be proud that she'd managed such a close range hit. Numbing the area with a bit more chakra, she quickly snapped the cartilage back into place. To his credit, Sasuke didn't even flinch.

"You _did_ deserve it you know, you can't just _propose_ without a _ring _in the middle of_ training _and _not_ expect me to deck you."

Sasuke hn'd but didn't say much else. They sat in companionable silence for a few more moments, Sakura skimming gentle fingers around his face to heal any lingering soreness, before he finally spoke, "You still haven't given me an answer."

Sakura huffed, but the smile she gave him was brilliant and her whispered _yes_ did odd things to his heart, but before Sasuke could contemplate further his arms were full of Sakura and she was pressing wet, laughing kisses to his lips.

Sasuke briefly thinks that this was definitely worth getting his nose broken for.

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><p><strong>an:** Done for the drabble requests on SasuSaku Month!


	4. panacea

****title:** **panacea**  
><strong>rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>pairingprompt:** **sasusaku/"breakdown, then break away" for ohgoditsbriony (sasusaku month comm).  
><strong>warning:<strong> A bit dark and gory.

* * *

><p>"Sasuke Sasuke oh god you're not <em>allowed-<em>you _can't_ leave, don't you _dare_ leave us like this, please please pl-"

She is all desperate, heaving breaths and frantic hands pushing all of her chakra

_no control don't _

_slip_

into the gaping wound across Uchiha Sasuke's chest. The cut is long and diagonal and lays open his innards and he's losing so _much _blood and she can't work fast enough; the moment she knits close a tear he'd spasm, jerk and rip it open again. She would yell at him, tell him to _hold still goddamnit_ if the words weren't crumbling in her throat and his eyes hadn't already gone blank with shock.

She would not, she _will not, _she _refuses _to let it end this way.

Sakura's sobs are dry and her throat screams in protest, her own wounds weeping blood in compensation for the lack of tears. But she refuses to care, because her teammate, her (god what do you call someone like Sasuke? It's not just love, it transcends love, he pushes them makes them stronger made her _grow_) first (andlastandforever) love is lying there in the dirt with his guts spilling past broken skin because of a slash meant for _her_ and poison's moving through his blood stream rushing towards his brain to seal his eyes and steal his breath forever and-

She doesn't know what to fix first. Her hands are soaked in his blood and in the end she resorts to manually holding the great gaping flaps of skin together, conjuring textbook images in her mind and rearranging his insides into all the proper places and positions. Past a rib she thinks she can catch the desperate palpitations of his heart but she shuts her eyes and her shaking hands move on.

But it isn't working, and the blood still flows freely and the frantic beats of his heart are slowing and there is a dull roar in her ears, drowning out the sounds of battle all around and the only thing she can focus on is him, is Sasuke's face, growing steadily more pallid as his life's blood drained through the gaps between her fingers. She is dry heaving uncontrollably now because there is_ nothing_, nothing more she can do for him.

She is elbow deep in Uchiha Sasuke's insides and literally the closest anyone will ever be to him and _still _he is slipping away through her fingers.

As the movements of the dark haired boy beneath her stills and Uchiha Sasuke breathes his last breath, Haruno Sakura finds, for the last time, resolve.

Her hands are steady and sure as she begins the hand seals for Chiyo's last jutsu.

* * *

><p>When Uchiha Sasuke opens his eyes, the first thing he notices is the warmth fast fading from the still pink form sprawled over his torso.<p>

His arm rises automatically to clutch the body against his (whole) chest, and for a brief moment, for the last time, he lets something raw and agonizing soften the opaque black of his eyes before sooty lashes lower.

When he opens them again, he stands, keeps the body (_Sakura_ Sakura Sakura S-) cradled close, and turns to move in the direction of Konoha.


	5. white paint on white walls

****title:** **white paint on white walls **  
><strong>rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>pairingprompt:** **sasusaku/"white lines" for caspyr441 (sasusaku month comm).  
><strong>warning:<strong> Crazy!Sasuke ahead plus deliberate strangeness and vague whatsits.

* * *

><p>There are lines that Sasuke draws around himself, thick and sloping, pseudo-seals setting up barriers and boundaries that no one should cross. He envisions them as bars, almost, and behind them, in the innermost corner of himself, he tucks away any lingering regrets or half-hopes. Behind them, he tucks away his sanity.<p>

"Sasuke."

He is staring down into liquid green eyes. Eyes the color of virgin birth, eyes that remind him of half remembered stories of immaculate conception (she births warmth in the world, she births the sun and the moon and his universe, all reborn in her eyes) and martyred souls.

There is no suffix attached to his name, not anymore, and he can't say that he is surprised. Sasuke is surprised by very little these days, not even the way her blood bubbles pretty and pink around the edges of his sword, steady hands flayed raw as they tighten around steel can make him blink.

"Sasuke," she says again, and her voice is firm.

He lets a grin slip out, a little. No, not so much a grin as a quick slash of white across his face. A bit too wide. A bit too disconcerting. Grinning. He's been doing that a lot lately, letting the edges of his lips curl upwards as he clutched his bleeding eyes or just opening wide after a particularly spectacular kill.

"_Sasuke_." This time his name is hard and unyielding, and he automatically recalls his mother scolding him in the exact same tone. He shoves the recollection away as soon as it forms, imagining shattered shards littered against the farthest corners of his mind.

(He would have to vacuum there, later, he thinks. Because he most of all knows what it is to have your head be a tangible place of refuge and lies and dusty old furniture composed of bits and pieces of neglected memories. Naruto's head is much tidier than his, he remembers, on the few occasions that he's had the time to visit. Sasuke idly wonders if the Kyuubi did cleaning on days when it was especially bored.)

The hard murmur of his name draws him back to himself, and he is slightly confused at first as to why Sakura is standing not three feet away from him, the only thing preventing her from being skewered on his sword her own bloodied hands clasping the blade. He is about to remove the offending weapon and apologize politely for the unfortunate incident when he remembers that he is sixteen and not twelve, that he is supposed to kill her and anyone who stands between him and the complete and utter annihilation of Konoha.

It takes him another second to remember why, and the grief hits him with fresh force, as it always does when he forgets for a while, too lost in the monotony of _stab anything that moves_.

Sasuke shrugs, and makes to push the sword in deeper.

"_Uchiha Sasuke_."

Her grip tightens and suddenly she is yanking the blade forward and he stumbles, just a little, watching aghast and confused (where had this strength come from?) when she uses the momentum to pull him forward by his shirt, Kusanagi whipping out of his hands and clattering to a stop a few feet away.

She peers a bit too closely into his Mangekyo-red eyes for comfort, hands smearing dirt and blood over the white of his shirt, and on reflex, before he can help it, the tomoes are already spinning. Sakura remains unfazed, and in one last deliberate utterance of his name, crosses all his carefully drawn lines.

Once she hands him his sanity back, and he is broken bleeding but so so whole on the dirty dusty floor, she whispers, "You probably shouldn't have painted them in white."


	6. the kiss

****title:** **the kiss**  
><strong>rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>pairingprompt:** **sasusaku/a wonderful piece of fanart by girlUnknown on devArt.  
><strong>warning:<strong> Odd tenses and a complete lack of plot.

* * *

><p>When Sasuke kissed Sakura, it was with a quiet desperation that shook her bones and rattled her soul.<p>

His lips slid over hers with none of the control or finesse that he exhibited on the field, instead, he was frenzied, almost sloppy, as he hungrily slanted open mouthed kisses against her lips, one hand cupping the back of her neck, burning, burning against her skin and the other clutching her to him around the waist. His hold though, wasn't tight , and despite the fierceness of his affections she could feel hesitation in the way his fingers curled loosely around the fabric of her shirt and in his half lidded gaze as he watched for her reaction.

She didn't know what to do, half of her brain was yelling at her that this as a _genjutsu damnit because there was no way Uchiha Sasuke was standing _here_, in her apartment dripping water on her beloved hardwood floors and kissing her, kissing _her _as if his life depended on it._

But the other half of her brain, and every last bit of her heart, was screaming at her to _return the kiss do something quickly _hurry _before the dream fades and you wake up alone and needy in your own bed. _

So she did, surging up to meet him in a rise of heat, fingers tangling in wet black hair, pushing forward until her breasts were crushed flat against his chest. Sasuke growled, sound low in his throat, and shifted so that his arms were wrapped more securely around her, fingers splayed wide across her back, branding her with the heat. Kissing Sasuke was overwhelming, was almost like being attacked , except with lips and teeth and tongue instead of kunai and jutsu, but Sakura was a fighter too, so she tore her lips away, earning grunts of protest for her efforts, before turning her attention to his jaw and nipping her way down to his neck. She paused over the spot where the curse seal used to be, fervor cooling a little as she pressed a soft, uncertain kiss against unblemished skin, tasting salt and rain.

Sasuke stills under the touch, and she could feel him force himself to relax into her embrace. Not moving to kiss him again, she instead buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the wind and rain and lightning that always screamed _Sasuke_. He pressed his face into her hair and they stayed like that for a few long moments, neither moving nor saying a word, the only sound the furious beating of the rain through the open door behind him.

Surprisingly, she wasn't the first to break the silence, "I've..." he coughed, voice raspy, "I've waited a long time to do that."

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Originally posted on the sasusaku month comm on LJ (join!).

...I...I just realized I've never written a serious macking scene before. ;-; I need practice.


	7. closest

****title:** **closest**  
><strong>rating:<strong> **T**  
><strong>pairingprompt:** **sasusaku/"so don't think that I'm pushing you away when you're the one that I've kept closest" and au for fade in2 dreams.  
><strong>note: <strong>au and set in modern times.

* * *

><p>He keeps her up with the incessant tapping of fingers against glass paned windows. The rain runs down in rivulets on the other side, and the room is heavy in oppressive silence. She lies motionless on top of the messy covers, sprawled on her stomach, the side of her face pressed against one white pillow.<p>

His white shirt grazes the top of her thighs, and the air does not move.

He doesn't talk to her much anymore, and when he does the words are few and curt, quick and to the point. She likes to think that he expresses his love in other ways, in actions instead of verbal proclamations. But now, now she isn't so sure if she'd just been fooling herself.

It is three in the morning, but her eyes are wide open, staring at his back, silhouetted against a backdrop of city lights.

He's busy, most days. His firm is getting more clients and more attention. Sasuke was a "big shot lawyer" now, quoting Naruto, and he's bound to get even busier.

Sakura turns her face away from his back, green eyes closing.

Maybe she wasn't enough for him.

Maybe he was getting tired of her.

Maybe this wasn't going to work out.

The tapping stops, then, and the bed suddenly dips under his bulk. Then his warmth is covering her, the weight of him pressing into her, every part of their body touching, perfectly aligned.

She feels him breathe her in, and his low voice rumbles against her back as he says, "Don't think that I'm pushing you away when you're the one that I've kept closest."

Sakura understands, and as she turns her head to meet his kiss, she smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Originally posted on the sasusaku month comm on LJ.


	8. loss

**title:** loss  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku/Naruto chapter 396

* * *

><p>Sakura lingers long after Naruto's last anguished sob. The once grand room around her has collapsed, Amaterasu eating hungrily away at the remains. Her knees presses against the cold stone floor as she wonders about all the things that ended here-and about all the things that have begun. Her heart protests that things would've been different had they just gotten here sooner, cataclysmic changes and all. She feels heavy with loss and disappointment, a weariness so different from Naruto's anger, his inevitable optimism. Sakura feels that a whole lifetime of what-ifs and opportunities have been missed here; for one glorious moment, the circle could have been broken, destroyed, disproved. She could have brought Sasuke home, brought him home and pointed to him and told her teachers that "see, we're not like you, this is our <em>own<em> story."

Lips grim, Sakura rises to her feet, pulling on her cracked leather gloves as she does so.

Her kunoichi (warrioress, killer, carrion-feasting) blood thrums, war is coming.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Heavily edited and reposted from **Steps**, which I'll be deleting completely as I move everything that I want to save (not a lot) to this collection. References the last Sasuke-Itachi showdown way-back-when where things really started to go downhill for the kid.


	9. inconvenient truths

**title:** inconvenient truths  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>promptpairing:** sasusaku/imagining the first sasusaku reunion in the aftermath of Naruto chapter 403 (this was originally posted before the actual reunion, obviously).

* * *

><p>She's trembling-oh god, shaking so hard-and she can't make it stop. She's stronger than this, than him, but then if that is true, she isn't quite sure why this traitor, this missing nin, is standing only two feet away and she still hasn't <em>attacked<em> yet, dammit.

Sasuke stands there, looking through her with cold eyes, Kusanagi dripping with warm blood. There are no words between them, no sound save for the flapping of his Akatsuki cloak in the incessant wind.

Her brilliant mind is trying to sort everything out, jumping from the sword to the cloak to the spinning pinwheels of the Mangekyou, never lingering on the last for more than a fraction of a second.

_She doesn't dare, not now, not anymore_.

Sakura is still standing there when he finally looks away, walking past her with no more notice than he would pay the dusty road beneath his feet.

He, Sasuke, Sasuke-_kun_, is no more than ten feet away when everything in her mind finally stops, settles, _sees-_rearranging itself into the misshapen pieces of her burning home.

Sakura whirls, takes a deep fast breath and in a leaping bound her chakra laden fish is heading straight for the back of his head. Faster than she can blink, he is behind her, her arms twisted behind her back and locked in his.

Sasuke's sudden proximity unnerves her, and to Sakura's disgust she can feel the tears prickling behind her eyes. She manages to spit out a snarling _"traitor"_ before she slams her foot into the ground, wrenching herself from his grasp and jumping to safety.

He leaps after her, over the fissure that she's created, dodging the kick that she aims at his head and retaliating with his sword, twisting out of the way as he does so.

Sakura uses the opportunity to rip the red and black cloak from his shoulders, flinging it to rest on the ground.

"Traitor," she repeats, blinking back the tears. "You're no better than Itachi!"

He is suddenly in front of her again, blades of the Sharingan spinning angrily, cold steel pressed against her throat.

"You know nothing," he growls.

Sakura watches the quick play of anguish, then despair, and finally anger move across his face, and in the last agonizing seconds before unconsciousness claims her, she suddenly realizes that no, she really doesn't anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Also edited and reposted from **Steps**.


	10. on a dusty road to nowhere

**title:** on a dusty road to nowhere  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>promptpairing: **potato/sasusaku

* * *

><p>It is the longest sentence she's said to him in a week, "Don't drop the potatoes."<p>

Sasuke twitches, but is determined not to let on that he's bothered. It doesn't matter that she's been…_ignoring_ him and avoiding him and any other verbs that might imply they were once anything more than acquaintances. Two people, who'd shared the same squad for a short amount of time, maybe got on politely, what have you, and nothing more.

Sasuke drops the sack of potatoes in the midst of his annoyance.

Sakura clicks her tongue, and the sound is condescending.

"It's just a D rank mission, Sasuke." She halts in the middle of the dirt road, the wagon she'd been single handedly towing sinking with a heavy thud into the earth, and walks towards him. She has to bend down to pick up the fallen potatoes, and the sight of her bent before him leaves Sasuke faintly flushed.

"Here, and do it right this time, or I'll have to note your incompetency in my report." Then she's back at the front of the wagon, the yoke settled comfortably on her shoulders and moving again.

_Incompetency_? He'd _show_ her incompetency…

Sometimes Sasuke wonders if it wouldn't have just been better if he'd thrown in his lot with Madara, fuck redemption and homecomings and go down with the last of the oldest Uchiha's crazy undead men. Then, _then_ he wouldn't have to suffer all the indignities of Konoha's "leniency"—he should've just stabbed Naruto and gotten on with it. Sasuke doesn't really care about how the rest of the village views him, or if he is stuck genin forever. Good. Fine with him. He's still sitting filthy rich on the clan's money—blood money—and he's been thinking about switching jobs lately anyways, or maybe picking up a new hobby. He's had enough fighting for a lifetime thanks, and why chance it and tempt power-hungry Uchiha genes with more?

No, what _really_ irks him is having to regain _Sakura's _trust. Sakura, who he'd always thought would the most vocal, the most welcoming and supportive of those few in his corner. Instead she'd sat silent during his trial and let Naruto do all the talking, and now she's pretending that their…relationship, friendship, never existed in the first place. She'd tried to kill him, but she hadn't been able to go through with it, had she? She'd held that flimsy kunai in her hands, poised an inch above a fatal spot over his back and she hadn't been able to do it.

That had to have meant _something_, right?

Looking ahead, the sack of potatoes heavy and hot over his shoulder, Sasuke wonders how far that _something _will really go.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Written for **15 minute fic**, a community on LJ that gives out weekly one-word prompts that you then have to fulfill in fifteen minutes flat, no cheating.


	11. empty chests

**title:** empty chests  
><strong>rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>promptpairing: **#13 - Even though the whole world is kidnapped by loneliness/team 7 gen

* * *

><p>There is this space inside Sasuke's chest, too full when it should be hollow, filled to the brim with warmth and things that he dares not name—<p>

There is this space inside his chest that he calls a secret. It's his own form of security, a deposit in case things go wrong. He thinks that when he dies, if he can never tell them all his truths, they will be able to unlock this vault between his ribs and figure it out for themselves.

This space is why he almost never eats—he feels too full, all the time, with the things that he cannot say. Even if the world leaves him behind, even in the darkest of dark, he never feels alone.

Instead, what he keeps inside also keeps him. These unspoken words are his keepers—they hold that fundamental part of him that he hasn't—that he will never sacrifice. That he _can't_ sacrifice. Not for anyone, he mouths, not even for you, brother.

When he is gone, and they remain (because there is no question of that, he still has to atone for his sins), his secrets will stay, and live on between their fifth and sixth ribs too.

It's a kind of immortality, and it is through this promise of things to come that Sasuke knows that he will never have to know regret.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** Written for the **31_days** community on livejournal. I'm going to try and finish up all the sasusaku/naruto claims I made on LJ and wrap everything up by the end of October. Let's see how that goes, yeah?


	12. stupid, stupid

**title:** stupid, _stupid_  
><strong>rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>promptpairing: **unreadable/sasusaku

* * *

><p>She's unreadable under the cover of night, the moonlight tinting her hair a quiet blue. Her eyes alternately moves in and out of the shadows with every step she takes, bare feet silent against the cobblestones. The pair of high-heeled shoes she'd worn for the occasion dangles limp from one hand.<p>

He thinks that he should probably break the silence, because he's Naruto—it's what he _does_.

But contrary to popular belief, he's not stupid, he can tell who she's thinking about, so the blond instead holds his tongue and keeps walking besides her.

Sakura is wearing a skirt tonight; not her usual medical gear, but a genuine skirt, all shortness and lace with nothing but bare skin beneath. He wonders if anyone else had noticed the out-of-character dress—he certainly had, but the dress Ino had worn to her own birthday party had been much, _much_ shorter.

Naruto wonders if Sasuke had, and if so, why the bastard hadn't looked at her even once.

He scoffs—it was probably a pride thing. _Uchihas_.

"Ne, Sakura-chan," he finally begins, "that was a nice party, wasn't it? Did you _see_ Ino's face when Sai called her fat?"

There is no answer from his best friend, not even the amused hum she likes to favor when she is particularly tired. Naruto frowns, stuffing his hands in his pockets, lowered eyes back to staring at his shuffling feet.

The night had started off well enough, he'd stopped by Sasuke's apartment first to make sure he came, and the two had met Sakura at the club. She'd been all smiles, teasing Sasuke about what he was wearing (plain, indistinct black clothes as per what he wore _every_ day) and laughing at Naruto's bright orange button down. They'd gone in together and settled at Ino's specially reserved table, exchanging greetings and giving the birthday girl their best wishes.

And then his pink haired teammate had taken off her coat and revealed her bombshell of an outfit. For the rest of the night, Sasuke hadn't said a single word, even when prompted, and he'd out-right ignored Sakura when she tried to tease and cajole. It'd gotten so bad that an inebriated Ino had kicked them all out of the party, saying that _grumpy sourpusses _weren't allowed on her _special_ _day_.

Sasuke was gone in a flash, dropping all pretenses of civility with a quick Shunsin before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Sakura was welcome to stay, but the girl had excused herself quietly and Naruto had scrambled to walk her home.

He looks at Sakura again, face now fully lit as they pass under a flickering street lamp. Her expression is still blank, but Naruto has known her for years, and to him, the slight tilt of her lips speaks a thousand words.

The blond sighs; _and they called _him_ the idiot._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **For **15minutefic**'s 'unreadable' prompt.


	13. trace

**title:** trace  
><strong>rating:<strong> T+  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku/"outside the lines that shape his body"**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>She traces the outline of his body, dark hair a stark contrast against paper pale sheets, weight and reality pressing into the mattress, leaving indentations that reassure her of the solidity of his presence.<p>

It's a question unspoken every time they come together, past the sweat slicked skin and the feel of his hands pressing against her hips, her shoulders; _will you still be here in the morning_? She never asks him out loud, never tugs on a shirt sleeve when he does, inevitably, leave while she watches him with the large eyes of a lost child—in fact, she is never even awake. She never does any of these things, because he's like a child too, despite what they do at night and what they're forced to do during the day. Past the killing and the sex, he is so lost that sometimes it scares her, and if she asks—if she verbalizes any of the millions of things she wants to say, she thinks that will the day that he leaves for good and never comes back. Not in all the ways that matter.

She's scared to touch him, too, after the fact, when they're finished and she detaches herself and disentangles their limbs. He breathes easy, deep and slow when he sleeps, and his arms always tuck themselves neatly by his side. It's a _Sasuke _thing, probably, like the way he always likes his kunai perfectly sharpened and organized based on frequency of use or how he could never stand the dust.

He has never said that she couldn't touch him, couldn't curl into his side or against his broad back, but Sakura is afraid you see, a coward in the worst ways, and she thinks if she even lets her fingers rest lightly against the surface of his skin, test the give and take there, he would wake, and he would leave, earlier than usual. So instead she traces the outline of his body instead, carefully with her practiced surgeon's hands. She resists sleep until the light peeking through her curtains is dusky and blue, until she has mapped perfectly the space outside of the lines that shape his body.

* * *

><p>She always falls asleep before he leaves, so Sakura doesn't know—doesn't see Sasuke waking up every morning, the slow brush and sweep of dark lashes against skin and the soft curl of his mouth as he turns to look at her. She doesn't see his pause as he rises to leave every time, always looking at her, always waiting for an indication that she wants him to stay.<p>

But one day, she will; she will forget to be scared and her eyes will drift close before his, and in the morning, she will wake up first and watch him as he follows and say in a half-hopeful voice _stay a while longer _and he will, he will and they will sleep in, and he will cook her breakfast (tomato onigiri with steamed fish and more rice), and she will smile and laugh and tease and it will become routine.

But for now, they will have their nights and her fretting and every time, every time he will wait. It is one of the few eventualities that he can live with.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** For November 5th's prompt over at **31_days** (auuugh, and I'm late again). _And this is what I was doing when I was supposed to be writing my paper, ugh.  
><em>

Oh! Also, if anyone's interested in gift fics for the holidays from me, pop over to my LJ by clicking homepage on my profile and let me know (it's the only entry not friends-locked besides the friends-only entry, so it should be easy to find). If enough people are interested I'll put up a request post proper. :)


	14. building bridges

**title:** building bridges  
><strong>rating:<strong> k+  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku/"Happy Christmas (War Is Over)" - Damien Rice, snow storm, for elle_blessing.

* * *

><p>They walk side by side along the lane of snow. Behind them trail two distinct sets of forlorn footprints with a space almost wide enough to fit another person in between.<p>

Everything is hushed—it's the snow, and Sakura likes that: she likes the soft quiet and the dead stillness, the cold and the shivers that wrack her spine.

It's Christmas Eve, and the war is over. It's Christmas Eve and Sakura and Sasuke walk side by side, together but still _apart_. She looks at the melancholy picture he makes out of the corner of her eye—dark hair and dark clothing startling against the white of the snow—and wonders what he's thinking about. They've been together for half a year now, and Sakura likes to think that she's learned how to read Sasuke well: what he wants to but doesn't say, what he's thinking of, all the little subtleties in the quirk of an eyebrow or the curve of his lips. These walks though—these walks they take at night in the snow, when it's as if the whole world is dead, the whole world is silent and mute and incapable of speech, that's when she feels the furthest from him.

All the progress—all the distances she has traversed and crossed in order to reach him, all that effort disappears along with the rest of the world into the white of the snow. Sakura bites her lip and _what has she accomplished?_

_Nothing_, she answers her own question, _she has accomplished nothing_.

And she sighs—a soft sound, but Sasuke hears her anyways, hears her and looks up and it's like he's almost startled to find her next to him. He stops, the movement abrupt, and Sakura stops with him.

Her gloved hands dangle by her side; his are tucked in the pockets of his dark grey coat.

(She'd bought him that coat.)

Sasuke takes a shallow breath, struggles with it like he is fighting with what he wants to say before stopping, gaze drifting away again. Sakura tries to hide her disappointment, but then there is a light tug, and she looks down to see he's taken out his hand and linked their pinkies together. She smiles, and out of the corner of her eye she thinks he might be too, a subtle softening in the normally grim line of his mouth.

And there is still space between them, barely enough for another person to fit, but—Sakura curls her fingers more tightly around his—now they are linked, and that is enough.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** A completed fill for my drabble request over at LJ.


	15. remembrance

**title:** remembrance  
><strong>rating:<strong> T  
><strong>pairingprompt:** light sasusaku/a what-if repost from Steps taking place during the earlier Summit chapters (and thus some slight spoilers).

* * *

><p>The cold burns her, and Sakura thinks that at this point, there's finally no shame in admitting to pain. The world is blindingly white, but there is nothing pure about her, skin dirtied and smothered in blood. It flows freely from the deep gash in her side, a blow that had caught the kunoichi unaware while she was preoccupied with four other of Danzou's men.<p>

In the distance Sakura can hear the sounds of battle, muffled by the harsh wind ringing in her ears. There is nothing personal about the snowstorm; it will keep blowing until the white drifts settle around her in the mimicry of an early grave, the flakes uncaring that there is still life on the barren ground.

The fight had been hopeless from the start, who did Naruto and Sasuke think they were, attacking Danzou in the midst of the other Kages with no explanation other than the red and black of Sasuke's Akatsuki cloak and the burning chakra of the Kyuubi?

Sakura exhales, long and slow, grateful that the cold is numbing the pain but wishing it could do something for her heart.

(Here, she thinks there's finally no shame in admitting that she is a romantic either.)

Their wounds would've been fatal.

And then she had arrived, eyes blazing, daring any to cross her path as green life poured directly out of her hands, fighting to heal and protect at the same time. It would cost her her life, but Sakura had proven her worth, her _weight _and _importance_ on the team by tenfold.

Sakura—weak, cry baby Haruno Sakura, has saved the lives of perhaps two of the most important men to be born in this century: one will be the future Rokudaime, leader of a revolution for happy endings, and the other the driving force.

And here the snow digs for her a shallow grave.

She laughs, blood bubbling pretty and pink, mirthless and given up even as her chakra burns to keep her warm, to heal her wounds. Because Sai had gotten it so, very wrong; this isn't some stupid half-assed love triangle, there has never been any competition. It will be Naruto and Sasuke, Sasuke and Naruto, theirs a bond so knotted, twisted, frayed but _ unbreakable_ that there is no _space _for a third. She fills the void and bridges the gap, but that is it.

Sakura distantly wonders what they will feel (Sasuke-kun, especially Sasuke-kun) when they find her body in the spring.

And she thinks that maybe she is getting too much vindictive satisfaction out of this. But how can the gods fault her for hoping that maybe, finally, after everything she will be a _part_ of the team as something more than the spare who cries and heals and calls for help? Maybe then Naruto and Sasuke will make room for a third. Maybe then they won't forget.

Closing her eyes, Sakura sends her boys (always hers) one last prayer along with all the love that she will never have a chance to give, and dies.

They had always left her behind. This time, she won't wait.

* * *

><p>Naruto would later name the rebellious fraction he gathered to fight against Madara the <em>Sakura Battalion <em>(there was babble about trying to preserve the fleetingly beautiful things, but everyone knew who it was for).

Sasuke would never marry.

* * *

><p><strong>note:<strong> Again, edited repost from Steps. Chronology may seem weird since I wrote this before Sasuke offs Danzou and before the whole Tobi fiasco in the recent chapters.


	16. shine a light

**title:** shine a light  
><strong>rating:<strong> K+  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku_/"We Found Love"_ by Rihanna, for Ani. :)

* * *

><p><em>We found love in a hopeless place-!<em>

"You know, that should be our song." Sakura grins up at him from under his arm, stray flakes of snow dusting her cap with white. Brushing the dampness away with a deft hand, Sasuke scoffs, maneuvering the both of them out of the store and into the cold, leaving the cheesy pop music behind.

"I don't even know why you listen to that crap."

Sakura _tsks_, but buries herself deeper into his side; Sasuke's arm still lies heavy around her shoulder. Normally he isn't an affectionate man in public. Before, it had been a struggle for him to even hold her hand in a place where others might see. It'd taken them years—years of her coaxing, of her smiles and endless faith for him to stop being afraid.

But it was worth it in the end, Sasuke thinks, looking down at the top of Sakura's plaid covered head. She's still humming that stupid song from before, one hand clasped in his and the other resting on top of her gently rounded stomach.

Besides, given her current…_condition_, it wouldn't be amiss to indulge her a little more than usual.

_You're whipped_, Naruto's voice abruptly sounds in his mind, _well and truly whipped. _

Sasuke scowls, and his _shut up_ must have been more verbal than he'd realized, because Sakura is suddenly looking up at him inquisitively.

"What's that, Sasuke-kun?"

"I said it's a stupid song."

Sakura frowns, making a face. "Listen to the lyrics Sasuke-kun, they're perfect! A pair of lovers who _found love despite the hopeless, ravaged world around them, a love that prevailed through wars and sheer stupidity on the man's part."_

"I don't think that last bit was in the song," he comments wryly.

She smiles at him, and Sasuke has just enough time to tighten his hold around her shoulder once, something warm rising in his chest, before she's ducking out from underneath his arm and walk ahead to look at a display window or another that'd caught her eye.

A kid bikes by on the road, music spilling out from the small stereo in the bicycle basket. It's the same song from before:

_Now we're standing side by side, as your shadow crosses mine, what it takes to come alive_

Sasuke stays by the side of the road with his hands tucked into his pockets, and watches Sakura as she bends over one of the food carts lining the sidewalk, talking animatedly to the cart owner as he bundles up the food. It still catches him off-guard sometimes, seeing Sakura happy, cheeks flushed and stomach rounded with _his_ child. He remembers the biting words, the sword sharp at her skin, his hands tight around the fragile bones of her throat. Sometimes, he's still convinced that this is all a dream.

So many years and so many angry words to get to where they are…

_We found love in a hopeless place-!_

Sasuke supposes that the song isn't _so_ bad.

* * *

><p><strong>note:<strong> Obviously I don't own the song (lyrics were italicized). Also, I'm so late with these requests. OTL


	17. exploit

**title:** exploit  
><strong>rating:<strong> light M  
><strong>pairingprompt:** sasusaku_/"Tickets"_ by Maroon 5.

* * *

><p>The slick slide of bodies and his mouth hot on her skin is almost enough to make her lose herself and forget who this is.<p>

Almost.

His fingers dig into her hips, tries to bring her closer to him, but Sakura evades evade evades, and laughs because this is such a perverse reversal of roles. She craves this desperation—moments where she knows for once he's the one left wanting, bereft, deprived.

He always tries to be gentle with her in bed, and she knows it's the closest to an apology that she'll ever get. But it doesn't matter, and she bites and nips and urges him to go harder, harder until he replies in kind, until he gives in and it's all about savage teeth and tongue.

She's no fool; this isn't about love.

_All style, no substance_.

It's exploitation in a way, because she knows what he wants—no, _expects_ from her. She knows he thinks that she's still in love with him, still thinks she's willing to throw away her future just so she can become his.

_You tried to kill me once,_ she thinks as she moans his name and rakes her finger through his hair.

_I'm not an idiot_, she thinks as he hisses her name against her shoulder as if in pain.

_Never again_, she thinks as her world shrinks and expands and explodes behind her eyes in a world of feeling, in a rush of euphoria that never lasts.

**—**

**—**

She always leaves first in the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>note:<strong> Quick spontaneous drabble for a random request I saw while scrolling through tumblr.


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